Denis has been ignoring a growing wasp population outside the pet door, and sure enough, little Ricky was stung above his eye yesterday.  He let out the loudest pain-filled yelp, and shortly after he had a grape-sized lump above his eye.  As it was a Saturday, I was envisioning an expensive emergency vet fee due to an allergic reaction, but the dog was fine.  So, money saved from the vet, off we all went for a nice dinner.

It was the perfect night to go out, as Luke has accepted the lucrative oil field job, and is leaving for Calgary on Monday.  I envision him with a kerchief, filled with his paltry possessions, tied around the end of a pole.  Marching off with the pole on his back, bravely beginning a new life….In reality, however, he’s taking the plane.

Luke and his girlfriend Michelle, Nicky, Denis and I sat outside at one of the local establishments.  We’re actually quite fortunate to have a couple of restaurants within walking distance of our semi-rural home.  However, when I say ‘walking distance’ I don’t mean that we actually walk.  One could walk, should one wish to be so conscientious.

We ordered and then proceeded to eat a rather large amount of food.  When I remarked on the volume, Denis said, “why not, it’s Saturday night” as though we did this on a weekly basis.  After appies of nachos and calamari, we ate main dishes of burgers, wraps and stir fries.  Nicky and I insisted on desserts.  Just because I could, I ordered a Spanish coffee and came home feeling exhausted.

I’m sure the exhaustion is the accumlation of two heady days of baking with Marilyn.  We made over 300 fruitcakes, and now I have to vacuum seal and package them.  Then go to the store for ingredients, get another $500 worth of brandy, and be ready to start baking all over again.  It really is a filthily expensive product and one has to have nerves of steel for the debt it engenders.

Oh well, what’s a line of credit for, anyway, if not to help us purchase those vital items.  One of which is the dear greenhouse, which has produced the first ripe tomato of the season.  Today I had it for lunch on a sandwich, and it was fabulous.  I love going down to my garden with a sharp knife.  I cut heads of broccoli and cauliflower, slice cucumbers from their vines, and pick the outer leaves of my lettuce.

The dogs are intrepid birders and the other day I saw a pair of baby bird feet sticking out of Ricky’s mouth.  He and Mojo have been eating quite a lot of them, so I know my dream of putting a chicken coop down in the garden would be counter productive.  I can only dream of the day when I have the bee hive, chickens, a cow, a miniature horse or two (as pets) and of course the ubiquitous vegies.

Last week Luke said that his friend Dan, aka The Boarder, had asked him if he wanted a job that would pay a potential of $90,000 a year.  Dan, being an extremely ambitious and hard-working young man, moved to Alberta two years ago.  He’s since gotten himself a well-paid job in the oil field.  He’s already a supervisor, and hence was able to offer Luke this job.

I hesitated for a moment, but had to ask the question.  I said, “What did you tell him?”  Luke said, “I told him I’d have to think about it.”  I couldn’t answer for a moment, as I knew an inappropriate response might scuttle the whole deal.  Finally I asked, “Is it a horrible labouring job like dangerous oil drilling?”  Luke said, “God no!  I’d be sitting in a shack looking at a computer telling the drillers where to drill.”

Of course, one is stunned by their own off-spring, and I wonder if these moments don’t aid and abet something as sinister as the formation of a kidney stone.  In reality, of course, the experts tell us that it is due to dietary factors, but sometimes one has to wonder.

Remember all of my mirthful tales of sloth and over-indulgence?  Finally, on Monday morning the system reached overload and I went into renal colic.  If you’ve ever had a kidney stone and are reading this, you are wincing.  If you’ve never had one, just pray to God that you never do.  It’s about as close to feeling like dying as you will ever come.

I spent Monday in hospital on morphine, but was let out at dinner time.  I was sick and in pain for the next four days, but I must say I’m right as rain today.  It’s a great feeling after having been that sick.  And really, what better way to celebrate surviving such a thing but a trip to Winner’s to browse the shoe section.  I honestly do need a pair of semi-dressy black sandals.  Honestly.

Marketing for the business was out of the question for the past week, but I was happy to see myself described as “Writer and Culinary Artist” in the summer issue of Okanagan Arts Magazine.  Whether it’s true or not, it’s a heady feeling to be graced with those terms.

Even half-dead I managed to listen to Sounds Like Canada on Thursday and they had an adorable segment of listeners’ ads for selling fruitcake in July.  The orders continue to dribble in, and I even managed to send an emergency request.  One of my dear customers was having a shower on Friday night and wanted six fruitcakes.  Near death, yet determined, the intrepid entrepreneur makes her way to the post office……..

And so, the puzzlement over the lack of genetic conference of the ambition gene remains.  Oh well, the kid did say that he has now indicated to Dan that he wants the job in Alberta, so perhaps we will have a happy result after all.

Yesterday started with great excitement, as I’d been told by the producer of Sounds Like Canada that my business was going to be mentioned again. She said that CBC was going to invite people to write ads for selling fruitcake in July. Marilyn and I were baking our little hearts out anyway, so we had CBC on and heard the piece. It was very funny, because CBC had made up a skit about fruitcake, reminiscent of the fake orgasm scene in When Harry met Sally.

Then, the phone rang, and a nice woman said she and her friend were at Summerhill Winery, and that they wanted to come and buy fruitcake. They’d been on their way to BC from Ontario by car, and heard the interview on CBC last week. So, they had me on their ‘to do’ list. They arrived to the usual cacophony of barking from the three dachshunds. I had to do the usual, “heh, heh, heh, don’t mind them” routine.

They settled on five fruitcakes, and one of them went to the car to get some money. She came in ashen, saying there was a problem. Her friend and I, oblivious to what had occurred outside, were like, “What problem?” She explained that one of the dead Ponderosa pines on our property had been knocked down in a sudden wind gust, and had hit their car!

Sure enough, when we went out, there was the damn tree lying on their vehicle. There was a warning about high winds that day, and it suddenly had gotten dark and stormy, but of course no-one expected a tree to come down right at that moment. Of course I blamed Denis, who was still not home from his motorcycle trip, as he should have removed that tree.

Luckily, the women were super nice, and drove off to find a glass repair shop and make an insurance claim. Marilyn and I resumed our day of baking, wondering what on earth it all meant.

The good news is that the on-line sales have continued as a result of now having been mentioned three times on Sounds Like Canada. One customer sent me the nicest note about how much she adored both kinds of fruitcakes. Something like that just makes a person’s day.

Then today I made another sale to a winery store of Okanagan Fruit and Rum Bars, bringing the total number of stores carrying it to lucky 13! And speaking of that, on Sunday the 13th it’s my birthday. To celebrate, Denis, the boys and I are off to Osoyoos tomorrow to party with my mom and Gerry. My only brother, Freddie, and his wife and girls will be there, too, so it’ll be a Schiller reunion.

And no, we’re not taking the three dachshunds with us. They’re going to stay at home and be lovingly babysat by Fran, a trained vet technician who is able to put up with noisy dogs.

Denis left last weekend with one of his brothers on one of those silly motorcycle excursions.  They went to San Diego, returning in a week or so.  Then, on Monday night Nicky left for three days of camping with his girlfriend.  I therefore found myself gloriously and happily alone.

Do you remember that dog on the cartoon Huckleberry Hound?  When someone threw him a biscuit he would go “ooh”, “ahhh”, “mmm” as he floated up, crossing and re-crossing his arms to hug himself, going sideways and floating back down to earth.   He was just so damn happy, and that was me on Hall Road for the past three nights.

First of all, dinner was always ready within five minutes of my starting to make it.  I made as much noise in the house as I felt like, especially at dawn when I love to race around singing.  I’ve always been partial to big musicals, so one of my favourites is Oh What a Beautiful Morning!  In any case, the dogs seemed okay with it, though they cowered a bit at times.

It was over 30 degrees every day, so I had the air conditioner on non-stop.  One night the dogs were all under the blankets with me, and it was actually chilly!  Denis thinks air conditioning is poisonous, and should only be used very sparingly.  Certainly at night, he wants the windows open.  I keep telling him that he’s completely insane, but he won’t stop doing it.

Sadly, though, it ended at noon today when Nicky arrived home, all lovely and tanned from three days at the lake.  He promptly got ready for a nap, but asked if I could please put his clothes in the dryer for him.  It’s just as well, really, because I need to snap out of my euphoric mood and get ready for whatever the universe has in store for me.

As anyone who has ever had any reason to speak with me about fruitcake knows, today I was on CBC Radio’s show, Sounds Like Canada.  I immediately had orders coming in, so it has been totally wonderful.

On Monday I have another brain storming session with Prerna Chandak, the amazing young entrepreneur with whom I’ve been paired.  She’s like having a personal coach – she will kick my butt, and that’s a good thing.

With any luck, Nicky was napping to get his strength up for a night on the town.  That way, it’ll just be me, the three hounds and the two tabby cats.  The pets’ll be in for an evening of a pretty distorted imitation of Tom Cruise in Risky Business.  There will be underwear involved, but that’s where the similarities will end.